A Cowboy Worth Claiming. Charlene Sands

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ She chomped down on the black confection, biting off a big piece. She chewed it like it was her last meal. Silently amused, Chance decided not to comment.

       “I have one more stop to make. Over at Mrs. Finch’s Millinery.”

       “You buying yourself a hat?” Chance glanced at her hair, pretty in curls down her back. Once she’d cleaned up from that rat’s nest yesterday and smoothed out the tangles, Lizzie’s long strands hung as rich and glossy as black ink. Chance imagined how fine it would feel free of the braid and flowing through his fingers.

       She gave him a long suffering look. “Might just buy me two hats. No, make that a dozen.”

       “A dozen?” A chuckle rose up from his throat and she greeted his amusement with a tilt of her chin. She huffed away, marching toward the millinery shop.

       He followed with the horses in tow, watching Lizzie make her way down the sidewalk, the feminine sway of her hips catching his eye. She wasn’t without some female qualities. With a little coaching, a bit more manners and a sweeter disposition, Lizzie would be a desirable woman. His brows rose as he imagined her dressed in something less bleak, a gown of color with dainty lace around her small bosom and hugging her slender curves, making a man wish he had a right to draw her close and kiss her.

       Chance tore his gaze from her backside and shook those thoughts free.

       He came upon the decorated shop and looked at the storefront window displaying hats of every size, color and shape with feathers, leather, silver and plumes decorating the brims. How many social events did a town like Red Ridge entertain to warrant the womenfolk wearing such fancy hats?

       His gaze traveled beyond those bonnets to Lizzie speaking with apology on her expression to the woman behind the counter. When the conversation was over, the woman gently embraced Lizzie. She came out of the shop, her lips downturned and a sour pout on her face.

       If she would smile once in a while, a man might actually think her pretty. But Lizzie wasn’t happy right now and she walked past him and the horses, heading in the direction of the ranch.

       Chance mounted Joyful, tying the other horses to the saddle horn, and headed in the same direction.

       Lizzie kept up a brisk pace.

       “You gonna walk all the way back home?”

       Her shoulder lifted in a shrug and she kept walking.

       “That woman upset you?”

       Her head shook slightly.

       “Lizzie?”

       “I don’t want to talk about it.”

       Chance understood that. There was many a time when his life just wasn’t worth talking about. Lizzie had it rough lately, he’d give her that, and if she needed a little peace right now, Chance would grant her silence.

       Without her sass mouth doing any arguing, it would be two of the most pleasant miles he’d travel with her.

      * * *

       Lizzie’s feet ached and her stomach growled as they rounded the bend by the lake. She’d walked half the distance home so far, her feet moving beneath her rapidly as if they had a mind of their own. At times, Lizzie needed to walk off her remorse and her sorrow, but it wasn’t working out too well at the moment. She wasn’t alone and that was part of the problem. Chance was there, beside her, every step of the way. He’d been quiet on the way home from Red Ridge. Too quiet. It unnerved her and allowed her mind to fill with distressing thoughts.

       Just when she was ready to make a comment about his silence, he began whistling a tune, out of tune. His carefree attitude grated on her even more. He had no cares in the world, it seemed, yet Lizzie had too much to care about. Too many troubles fogged up her brain and strong as she was, sometimes it all seemed overly much for her to take.

       She stopped walking and turned to him. “What’s that awful sound?”

       Chance pulled up on the reins and looked around. “I didn’t hear anything.”

       She rolled her eyes. “You know I’m talking about your whistling. Sounds more like two starving hawks fighting over a carcass.”

       “Lizzie, you’re not hearing straight. Got something in your ears?”

       “No, but cotton would be good about now.”

       Chance grinned.

       It infuriated her that he looked upon her time and again with amusement, as if to say, she wasn’t a woman to be taken seriously. She refrained from stomping her feet and marching off. Planting her hands on her hips, she stood her ground. “What’s that smile for?”

       He shrugged and leaned over the saddle which made it easier to meet his piercing eyes. “Well, uh, Lizzie. You looked a little sad for some reason and I thought that my whistling might just brighten your day.”

       Lizzie didn’t believe that for a second. “You’re not that kind.”

       Chance glanced away, guilty, as if he’d been caught stealing from the church box. “You take pleasure in insulting me.”

       Indignant, her voice elevated a bit. “I didn’t insult you.”

       “Didn’t you? You don’t like my whistling and you don’t think I’m kind.”

       She had said that, hadn’t she? “Well, I just meant that you could follow a tune more closely.”

       “Uh-huh.” He tipped his hat back and she received the full force of his amused stare. “And the other?”

       “You expect me to believe you wanted to cheer me up with your whistling?”

       He heaved a sigh. “Maybe not exactly. I was gettin’ kind of bored with all the quiet.”

       “So you thought to annoy me?” she asked.

       “Did I?” He appeared hopeful.

       “No. Yes. Like I said you can’t carry a tune and it’s a bit irritating.”

       “Got you out of your doldrums, didn’t it?”

       “I’m not having doldrums.”

       Chance dipped his head low and shot her a serious look.

       “Well, maybe I was. Not that it’s any of your concern.”

       Chance granted her that much with a quick nod. At least he respected her privacy.

       “Get up on the horse, Lizzie,” he said. “You’re starting to tire. You need to be in good form tomorrow for the drive.”

       Lizzie opened her mouth to argue the point—Chance could be so bossy—but clamped it down just as fast. She was tired and Chance was right. She needed to be well-rested for their journey.

       Chance didn’t budge a muscle to help her mount the dappled gray mare he’d saddled, so she fumbled with the stirrup and saddle horn and found СКАЧАТЬ